In the Shadow of It All
by tHe vOiCe WiThiN
Summary: During the Golden Ages of Arthurian rule, a priestess of Avalon recounts her story of sustaining the reign of King Arthur. I know, this summary is TERRIBLE, but plz read! There is a better summary in the document.
1. Prologue: Nonexistent

**A/N: **I couldn't write a proper summary in the little space given, but here is an overview of what the WHOLE story is going to look like, though I've only written the prologue:

**Summary/Overview: **The legend of King Arthur has been passed down for many centuries, recorded by many different writers, storytellers, etc. But did these meticulous recorders forget some IMPORTANT details? Were some characters left in the mists? Mirouaene of the Apple Grove, a priestess of the Old People, happens to be one of the missing details. She recounts the major part she played in the glory of the kingdom of Logres (Britain), as the individual who sustained the rule of King Arthur. She was one of the most fortunate young women, having beauty, intelligence, kindness of heart, and the magical skills of a priestess of Avalon. However, she is not willing to accept what she has, and though ambitious to reach perfection, is never contented with herself. How will she manage to take on a role that leaves all of Britain in her hands, as well as surmount her troubles? There is some romance in the story also with Mirouaene and some other "forgotten" characters.

My story has SOME components of Bradley's "Mists of Avalon" in it, like the magic, rituals, and everything to do with Avalon. However, much of the actual Arthurian legend implied in the story comes from many different books I have read. You will probably see in my prologue that I am planning to bring out characters that were not mentioned very often in "Mists of Avalon". As for a disclaimer (I don't even know what that is…I'm new to fanfiction…), I guess I own Mirouaene, since I constructed her, which means I probably own all the other characters that I have constructed on my own (Coneophon, Vivorann, Descardius, Suuven, Tessa, Kaellei…not all of them are mentioned in the prologue, but they will appear as the story progresses). Anyways, enjoy!

**Prologue: Non-existent**

Avalon is no more a part of this world. It has drifted far into the mists, and will never open its arms to anyone but the few who have the power and learning to find an opening in-between the worlds. I am one who possesses that power, but there is no point in using it. The land outside the mists has been raided as I have heard it, and the golden times have fallen into darkness. The Isle of the Christian priests no longer stands outside the enveloping fog that separates Avalon from the world. With my power of the Sight I see only bloodshed, hear only barbarian words spoken with rough tongues. Even the monotheist priests and their love of their god Christ over all others were divine compared to the loathly Horse God of the barbarians. However, a hope lies in Avalon, like a dim light fighting for eternal power over the looming darkness. In Avalon rests Britain's most loved leader, the king who had brought peace and happiness out of hiding, and had united all the religions as one. His golden age still shines its brightest in Avalon, as those skilled in using feather-and-ink record the many exploits of our beloved King Arthur and his fellow Knights of the Round Table. I, who have lived many long years through those joyous days, long to see the sun rise in all its glory over Britain once again. However, what has past is past and may never tear away from the path of its destiny for happiness. So here I stand, Mirouaene of the Apple Grove, serving my lady Morgaine, who has been like a mother to me though she is only ten years older. As she says, I must be ready to take on a great responsibility, for she may have to relinquish her position as the Lady of Avalon. I am her only heir, and though I age gradually, I must be in control of my land as the voice of the Goddess until my dying day. But never may I find joy in ruling Avalon. I am contented to forever weep in sorrow over the loss of a time so heavenly, as if it was a magnificent vision from the land of truth. Well, I guess I took pleasure in it while it happened. There would come an end to everything, even Avalon. Writing had kept it alive in Avalon though, and I could forever keep it alive in me if I read what was written over and over again. I shall now resolve my remaining years in this world to find happiness through written words.

I can now clearly understand what Morgaine was referring to when she said that all the lessons that were taught to a child of the Goddess were taught for a good reason. I thank the Goddess with all my heart for being so fortunate. I was a spoiled character to think that only the Christian priests were to be educated in anything invented by humans, and not by the knowledge of the Great Ones. By interpreting the flow of words on a page, I can now relive a glory like one would never have known. The wise Druid writer of the story has described the events like none other! I look up briefly from the coarse parchment, expecting there to be a large platter of roasted meat balanced on the shoulders of four jovial serving squires. I crane my neck back and look up, thinking to observe the high ceiling of the spacious castle of Caerleon. However, I only gaze into the darkness of my cozy cottage home, pierced by the mere glow of my candle, creating flickering shapes that dance blithely into the jet-black distance. Ah, I can clearly recall the time when the good knight, Sir Gawain, went on his great exploit after the great, terrible Green Knight of Wirrel. I had guided him on his quest, disguised as a tree spirit. I had further tested his honor, so that he would wear it like a second suit of the sturdy armor, preventing him from any harm. I giggle silently while I read of his gentle conversations with the Lady Birtilack. He has now left from the house of the kind lord…is on his way to Wirrel…ah, but where is the tree spirit? Was our wise Druid careless enough to leave out one of the foremost events in the quest? How was it possible that this writer had caught every detail so meticulously, but had forgotten to include one of the factors that had preserved Gawain's life? Moreover, it was I who was left in the shadows. I, who had maintained the glory of the Golden Ages and enhanced the leadership of King Arthur over all others in Britain. I flip through the pieces of parchment uneasily. I study the names of the innumerable people carefully. Not once do they mention "Mirouaene" or "Lady of the Apple Grove" or "Priestess Mirouaene of Avalon". I have half a mind to claw at the thick parchment and rip it to shreds, but in a flurry of confusion, I end up only turning the page. I recklessly go on turning sheets. Listed here are the most accomplished Knights of the Round Table: Lancelot, Gawain, Tristan, Gareth, Percival…wait a second…I remember how Arthur used to forever boast a knight called Sir Coneophon. None of the letters here seem to spell out his name! How dare this mad Druid? Coneophon had been the noblest knight after Lancelot, Gawain, and Percival. Most importantly, Coneophon had been the only man who was perfect in my view. He had been the one and only man that I had loved even more than myself sometimes. Nobody had a care that it was he who had captured the Golden Deer of youth, which would slow down the aging process by eating its meat. Ah, I must calm my mind before I start to go insane. I shall read about Sir Lancelot, his adventures are intriguing. Hmm…he is said here to be the youngest son of Viviane, Lady of the Lake at that time, and King Ban of Benwick. Did the recorders of the splendid times not even hear of the reunion with his younger brother Vivorann, after the healing of Sir Meliot de Logure? Vivorann had become Lancelot's squire and soon after had been knighted by Lancelot himself! What a pity he is not mentioned in this badly-written literacy. I had had eyes for that man some time before I fell in love with Coneophon. In a moment of disappointed realization, I understand that all the books written about the Golden Times would be the same, no different from this piece of bogus work. This time I cannot stop myself from flinging the treacherous sheets of parchment on the ground below me, and crushing them with my foot. I rant and rave, and though it is late into the night, in a mad rush I rouse the young priestess sleeping near me, ordering her insensitively to fetch me a feather and a cup of blue woad paint. If nobody shall recognize the truth behind the splendor, I shall make them recognize it. I will begin my own book, using what I know of writing. I will write representing Avalon, through the eyes of the Goddess. All of us who were non-existent shall come alive in this new, true story. Avalon will now know for generations the story of our great King Arthur, from the eyes of the woman who supported it on her shoulders, and they will know how the lady, me, Mirouaene, learned many lessons, went through many sufferings of the mind, to accomplish such a great feat for Avalon. I had always thought I was good-for-nothing as a young girl. I had believed that my beauty and flair would never shine with the sun. I felt that I would never belong as a significant part of this world, but I had blossomed, reined, won. I refuse to give up my life to the Death Crone until all of Avalon and the many lands under the sun hear what I have to say. Let the earth, waters, fire, and air listen to the voices of the once non-existent.


	2. Chapter 1: In My Own World

**A/N: **Sorry that it has been SO LONG since I've updated. I'm in the school play, and we've had practices LIKE CRAZY throughout the month of February. Gosh, that month has been SO STRESSFUL this year! I'll probably be updating a lot more often in March and April. This chapter was written mostly at night, when I was tired, so there will probably be a lot of grammar mistakes and non-descriptive content and stuff, and just letting you know, I'm always open to constructive criticism. Also, congratulations to Morgan Scarlett or Mneme for being my very first reviewer! Thanks for your feedback! Answering some of her questions, most of the Arthurian legend in this story comes from these books: _The Sword and the Circle_ by Rosemary Sutcliff, _King Arthur and His Knights of the Round Table _by Roger Lancelyn Green, and of course, _The Mists of Avalon _by Marion Zimmer Bradley. As for characters, ONE new one appears in this chapter, but you will see more by chapter 3 or so. And, in my story, Lancelot is younger than Arthur, while Bradley says he is older. So don't be surprised if it says the Lancelot/Morgaine affair happens when he is 14.

I don't own anything except Mirouaene and Pamina and my ideas in this first chapter, but I am so happy to be using Bradley's wonderful characters as part of my story!

**Chapter 1: In My Own World**

"The huge creature scratched the air with its pointed talons, as it lunged towards Almea. Shain, out of instinct, plunged from the tree in a sudden flash of madness. He rushed towards the creature, drawing his sword…"

I smiled silently as a shy tingling rose along my skin. I absolutely adored these parts of stories, where the first hint of romance was always given…mutual respect. This was the fifth time that I had begged the minstrel to tell me the tale of the adventures of Shain of the Far East. I often marveled at the beautiful language the minstrel used to illustrate the plot, so much that I would fall in love with the characters sometimes, as I had many times with Shain. I twirled a long ribbon on my skirt and sat in a thoughtful daze, suddenly wondering where I had come from, how long I had been at this court. I had never known a mother or a father except for him to who I was given for fostering. My elder foster-brother, Lancelot, had told me that I had been born out of fire, at a festival called Beltane, or something like that, in a land of wise, powerful people. However, all that I remembered of my life was dwelling in the small kingdom of Lower Britain, in the abode of King Ban. I had become used to being surrounded by people, especially adolescent boys, wherever I was. However much power I held by being the King's foster-daughter, I could not utilize it on a soul at court. I was silent as a cool, enchanting wind, and did not befriend many, save for my kind, perceptive brothers. The majority of the young maidens at court had been fathered by the King with waiting-women, so they often kept to themselves and could care less for a quiet princess who could function only when deep in thought. One or two I could speak to, but these were the only couple with whom I could entrust my strange feelings and thoughts.

It had been some time after my ninth summer when the minstrel first arrived at court. I would listen intently as I sat near my brothers, while the vibrant warmth of the hearth covered me like a down-filled blanket. Ever since that first night, I had established clever ways to make enough time to request one piece after another from the minstrel. After some time, however, visions had begun to spring inside my sharp mind, and I could all of a sudden create the outcomes of lives as if they were deeper stories based on the works of the minstrel. I have lived a year now with these strange hallucinations, and still I question whether my love of legend and adventure has driven me insane.

"Lancelot will one day venture into that land…the land of the heathen pixies and faeries that he told me about! He is destined to embark on numerous journeys all over our realm. I can clearly see it now, he will solve the mysteries of our land! I can now envision him being put under a spell by a sorceress from the chapel of the dead! Whatever good he does to people will be in vain however, when he finds his one true love sitting by the side of his best friend, as queen—"

"Mirouaene, I am becoming quite concerned about your place in this court. It is no joke anymore, you are beginning to sound like a mad prophetess." Pamina let the words fall sharply from her mouth like ice crystals. The girl held a somewhat snobbish look on her usually innocent, delicate face.

"But I can picture it all, clearly indeed. My brother has a prosperous future! I can even imagine the lady who will be the queen of the land when Lancelot is grown. Tall and slim, with golden hair like threads from the sun—"

"And you act like a stateswoman, saying that Lancelot will fall in love with this lady. Well, it suits him well, he who has so little honor that he thinks he can court every girl under the sun at this age itself! Soon he will be—"

"Don't you dare speak of my brother that way! And who are you to be concerned of my place in court? I am princess here, and you are only—only—" A surge of tears began to rush into the back of my eyes. I made a great effort trying to lock them in that position, while remembering that even I was not a princess of blood kin to King Ban.

"Dear, you know perfectly well that your brother has already left for the pixie-land, and it is no adventure to him. It is home to his mother, though I would not expect him to return. Who knows what those filthy people have in mind? I can guarantee that his mother will not even remember the son she gave birth to and dispose of him as quickly as possible."

"He may not have found it an adventure to approach the land, but I know he will find adventure there eventually. He is only 14, he can't possibly be on an expedition as yet!" I daintily brushed a stray tear from my cheek.

"Mirouaene dear, you must be crazy. All this talk of sorceresses, quests, mysteries…why I believe you know nothing of the so-called "mysteries of the land" yourself!"

"It may sound outlandish, but it is the truth. Nobody must defy the truth." I spoke with confidence this time.

"How can you call a "new queen" truth? First of all, our reigning queen Igraine is Lancelot's aunt. It would be a terrible sin to fall in love with her. Secondly, Igraine is as young and healthy as ever. You will most likely be a mother by the time we are in need of a new queen."

"Uther will not live much longer. He has fought many wars and will soon die of his wounds. He has a son who will most likely take his place—"

"Bah! You think you can predict the future and everything. You think you are so smart. You might be princess, but I am sure that even one of us, though we are daughters of serving-women, would be a great deal wiser than you. If you ever took the throne, I can guarantee that you would cause enough havoc to destroy all of our land, with all your craziness!" Pamina shot a glaring look at me and, flicking her long, golden hair, rushed off with another girl, giggling as she sent one more sneer my way.

I defiantly rushed behind a pillar and began to weep. Torrents of warm tears rushed down my curved face. _No, Mirouaene, you must not be so sensitive,_ I thought to myself, but I could not hold back my pain. I was a proud girl, and I never liked to be in the wrong. But I was not in the wrong! My visions were correct, I was certain that they were true. They ran around my mind as clearly as if I was observing the actions right now. _Stupid Pamina. All she cares about is pomp, grandeur, and attention. She will never experience truth and happiness._ I smiled wickedly. _Something should go wrong for that girl. She deserves all the misery that she has given me. I must have been as dumb as a rock to have made a friend of her._ I hung my head slightly. She had been the only person who I had shared my thoughts and dreams with for over a year. And all she had done for me was to think me mad. I sighed heavily. I could not hold these apparitions within me. I knew they meant something, I just knew it. Who would I trust? I could not possibly tell father, and Balan and Balyn were away fighting the Saxons. Lancelot was in the faery-land according to Pamina. I held my head in my hands as I began the long walk up to my chambers. A housemaid offered to escort me, but I bluntly refused. I had always wanted to grow up to be a strong, independent princess, so I decided to prepare myself. I grinned widely. I felt much better now. Someday my visions would aid and guide me. Someday my intelligence would lead me far. But how could I be so confident when nobody knew or recognized my abilities?

Three Months Later

I stretched my long legs out as I leaned my head back against the cool, hard tub of water where I washed myself. I smiled as an adept hand began to smother my rich, dark hair with sweet-smelling herbal liquids from the mountains. I had often gone through this process by myself, because I needed my privacy, but on this day I was too lightheaded and cheerful to care. Word had gone around the castle that our dear Lancelot was arriving home today after being away for about a year now. I shivered out of sheer happiness. My dear brother, the audacious lad who would keep me educated in the ways of the world, and who would answer my endless questions patiently without a single snap or a scornful expression. He would come home looking more grown-up to me than ever. I looked up and asked the maid to scrub me as quickly as she could. When she had finished, I tied up my hair in a tight plait and hurriedly dried myself down. I called for my fancy blue holiday dress, and swiftly knotted the sea-blue ribbons. Then, I ran through the corridors, skipping three steps at a time as I sped down the many staircases towards the grand hall, where guests and returning inhabitants of the castle were brought in to settle down and speak with the king, queen, and courtiers. Just then, I heard a harmony of voices, and I knew he had arrived. I fell in among the throng of the waiting-women's daughters, trying to look as dignified as any princess, but feeling as light as a feather deep inside my heart of hearts. I looked up in time to see my brother enter, tall and glorious, like any proud youth. I smiled shyly. He had grown handsome since I saw him last. Unaware of my manners, I rushed to where he stood, holding my arms out toward him. I would tell him of all the visions I had been having. I would relate to him all the wonderful stories the minstrel had told me. "Lance! Oh, how I've missed you!" I cried in delight as I ran to him. Just then I was jostled and pushed to the floor, and I heard voices around me stirring the tense air. I grunted as I struggled off the floor. I was princess, did no one comprehend that? And Lancelot was my own kin! Maybe not by blood, but I surely loved him as much as I would a blood brother! In a moment of confusion I found myself once again on the hard ground. I looked up to my brother for assistance, but he just began walking towards father and did not even glance at me. I frowned. His arrogance has sure grown along with his body. As I once again made an effort to find a comfortable stance. I felt the sharp grasp of a hand across my shoulders. A small female who was about my height raised me, smoothed my dress, and smiled. I stared into her deep, dark eyes. It seemed that I could pick out the mysteries in those dark thickets of knowledge. I could separate the good and the bad in this woman, or girl, as a swan separates milk and water, just by gazing into those mystifying eyes. I forced a smile back at her. I knew I could trust this person, though I knew her not.

"Oh dear, you must be disheveled! Let me tidy you up a bit." The female finally spoke. I could now definitely take her for a lady, though she was not much taller than I. Her voice was slightly deep with an imposing tone, but still soft and thick like honey.

I suddenly realized, however kind this lady might seem, I did not even have an idea of who she was. "Are—are you from court?" I asked in a timid voice, backing away with miniscule steps.

"Why, of course not! You would have surely recognized me otherwise. I know you for a princess of these areas. How is it with you, Mirouaene?" She reached to rest a small hand with long, sharp nails on my shoulder, but I immediately stepped back and stifled a scream, which came out as no more than a squeak.

"How is it that you know my name?" I managed to whisper. "Who—who are you? What is your name?"

"Oh you poor thing, I had no intention to scare the life out of you. I only know who you are because I know of your fate. You have a position of glory waiting in your midst, my dear. I can see it clearly." I gasped out of wonder. The exact same phrase I had always used when speaking of my visions had uttered out of this strange woman's mouth. I shook my head, sure that I had not heard correct. I was probably in a daze as always, with the excitement.

"You—you can predict what is in store for other beings?" I smiled, a fountain of joy and delight shooting out of my heart. "How very interesting! So then, what is your name? I want to know who you are, and where you come from."

"I am Morgaine, my dear, honorable priestess of Avalon." She said as she stood up straight, and suddenly looked as tall and imposing as a proud peacock. "You might know me as your cousin, and close kin."

"What is Avalon?" I pondered. "I have never heard of such a place or object." Suddenly, a frightening thought bit me like a mosquito on a day of stagnant heat. "Is Avalon the land of the heathen faeries? Oh please say no, and if it is, please do not hurt me! Whatever have I done to harm you?" I began to weep softly.

"Oh, don't be ridiculous, the very thought! Avalon is a land of wise, learned people who practice magic healing arts of all sorts. I must say also, that you yourself come from Avalon, and I understand that you have the skill of a priestess."

"What skill? By all I know, I can do nothing but fall into daydreams. All the young girls at court call me crazy and never speak to me because of my lack of talent." I wept more as I let out my feelings.

"Oh dear, just as I thought it would turn out. You have learned nothing of self-confidence while you lived here. First things first, I would like to rid your mind of self-pity. Whenever did you learn such a thing, you who is capable of so much?"

"Did I not just tell you? Everybody around here dislikes me but my brothers, though I am princess. And now even Lancelot is acting different."

"Bah! Forget that man! Breaks a promise right after saying he will keep it. You can never trust men like that." Morgaine looked thoughtful as I raised an eyebrow, confused. "It is a long story. I promise I will tell you later. However, why do you say that these girls dislike you so much? I believe you are exaggerating, for if there is anything distasteful about you, I surely cannot see it, with all my powers."

"You see, I have what are called visions, hallucinations. During the day I will ask the minstrel to recite me a ballad, and that night I will suddenly have the ability to see somebody's future, especially that of my brothers." I spoke with excitement, as I retold what I had seen about the future of the kingdom of Logres.

"Why, that is more than I can ask of any of the maidens residing here! Visions are perfectly normal for a priestess of Avalon. These visions form a power called the Sight." I squealed delightfully, happy to know that I had a power while Pamina and others did not. "But—" Morgaine suddenly sounded stricter, and her voice was icy. "You must not put your power to bad use, for it will lead to trouble eventually."

"I cannot wait to tell the others! Pamina will be so shocked and will finally look up to me!"

"My dear, that is exactly what I was explaining to you just now. As priestesses, we must keep every expression of ours secret to the outside world. We can share them among ourselves, but nobody of a belief outside that of the Druids must know of our powers." I began to look around, being sure everybody was preoccupied with what they were doing and had not heard our conversation.

"So what do you have in mind that I should do?" I inquired.

"Why, come with me to Avalon, of course! Your type is not meant to stay in this worthless place, especially with your brother Lancelot. I am sure you have envisioned him up to no good in future years, am I not correct?"

"Well, yes actually, though I can never imagine him committing such treason." My body welled up with excitement as I thought of leaving Benwick forever for a new home in Avalon. "We must inform father before we set off, though." I said quickly.

"Oh no, I shall set standards with him later. Right now, you have much to learn and that is all I care for." She then grabbed me by the arm as we slinked through the throng of people. I giggled joyfully. Our minds were set towards our destination, Avalon.


	3. Chapter 2: Warning

**A/N: **I'm updating again! YAY! Lol…it has been more than a week. Sorry it's so late again. I've had SO many school projects and tennis tryouts as well. Once again thanks for all the reviews and support!

**Disclaimer: **I only own Mirouaene and her thoughts and feelings. The rest of the stuff belongs to MZB.

**Chapter 2: Warning**

"Morgaine, what is Avalon like? I have always envisioned it as a large, blooming island, with majestic hills and dense forests, with women in glittering blue robes walking every which way. I do believe that the priestesses there will be much like me, thoughtful and intelligent!" The wind carried the words from my mouth to Morgaine's sharp ear, and whipped my face in cold rushes. I was confident that I would find happiness at last in Avalon, though I could never imagine dwelling in such a land. I was surprisingly not out of breath. Morgaine had told me that we would be further building our endurance by running to Avalon on foot, and that the wind would offer its strength to us if we let it play with our garments and hair.

"Mirouaene, it is astounding how witty you are, for everything you have envisioned is what Avalon is. Our land belongs to the Goddess, maiden, mother, crone, whatever you would like to call her. The earth is precious, for it is the womb of our mother, the creator of the Druidic people. The pride of Avalon lies in the Tor, the sacred hill of life, where much activity and ceremony takes place, including the great Beltane fires. When we arrive, you will first be introduced to my aunt, Viviane, head priestess of Avalon and Lady of the Lake. You must be respectful to her at all times, for she is your elder. You will then spend a night in her cottage, and early the next morning, you will be taken to the House of Maidens for your schooling. There you will meet young girls of all ages who will be much closer to you than those silly maidens of Benwick." She spoke smooth and clear, without a falter of breath. I marveled at her steadiness.

"Beltane, you mentioned the word Beltane." My eyes lit up like sparks when I heard the familiar name. "Lancelot told me that I had been born during Beltane. I have always wanted to know of my heritage. Is there anything you wouldn't mind telling me? Who was my real mother?" My heart thumped inside my rib cage, desperate to break out of its protective cell. I had been searching for this answer during my time in Benwick, and I was hungry for the result.

"My dear that is a question you would have to ask Viviane, for I was probably very young at the time of your birth. I had probably still been living miserably at Uther's court with my mother the queen, or maybe even at Tintagel. How old are you, Mirouaene?"

"Eleven years, almost twelve now." I answered. True, Morgaine was most likely about 10 years older than I. She looked quite young with her petite figure and delicate features, but she was beautiful. Suddenly, I became fearful of her straight face and confident eyes. "Is it possible that Benwick has given me little education? Will the priestesses of Avalon all be much more intelligent than I? I imagine them being like you, elegant of posture, having a clever tongue and innumerable skills. Will I—will I be able to fit in among them? Will they accept a girl who has grown up in a Christian kingdom, among Christian people?"

"First of all, by "Christian people", I believe you are only referring to the other young women at court. True, Lancelot may also become Christian when our generation takes the kingdom, but your other brother, Balan, is not Christian. Your foster-father once followed the Druidic beliefs, for he performed the Great Marriage to the land long ago, which resulted in the birth of many sons including Balan and Lancelot. As for the people of Avalon, yes, you must be aware that they are highly skilled in the arts and indeed quick-witted. However, you have nothing to worry about, for when you are grown, Avalon will have seen nobody of equal intelligence and honor to you. Trust me, though it will take a good deal of patience and getting-used-to on your part, hard work will pay off, as it always does in Avalon. I can see it clearly." Morgaine's solemn face shattered into a relaxed smile, and I giggled, understanding the jest.

"Are we going to come to Avalon soon? I believe we have traveled far. It has been close to two days now, and we have surely slept out in the open more than four times. How much farther do we have to go?"

"My dear, we will be reaching our land soon. We might have to walk a little more than one hour, but that will cause no problems for you, will it my dear?" I smiled and nodded. Morgaine paused. "You might also want to note that you will not be seeing many men on the island. Avalon is a land of priestesses, where women have power, and where you hold pride in being born a woman. Are you not proud of yourself already, Mirouaene?"

"I—I think so..." I stammered helplessly. I had always aimed to achieve the highest, to be noticed, and envied. I silently refused to be proud of myself until I held what Morgaine's Goddess held. I knew that I was planning to achieve the impossible, but I had spoiled myself. I wanted to stand nothing lower than the top, and, though I marveled at Morgaine's skill, how she opened the mists as we crossed the lake into Avalon, I could not help intimidating myself. Avalon, the land of perfection, of faeries who could perform every healing art on the face of the earth. I sighed. I had just been so excited about living in this land, but now as I came upon it, I feared entering the place, for I was scared of depression, of wishing I had never existed, or existed as someone else. If I was defeated, put down by someone else, all would be lost. I would never hold pride for what I was, not in a land of the most fortunate women in Logres. However the people of Avalon may have welcomed me, I knew that in the deepest part of my soul, no voice would make me comfortable, not even in the land to which I belonged. However much I craved, I would never be able to allow myself to love Avalon, or the Goddess. But if I did not feel comfortable in Avalon, then where would I truly belong? Where would I find my true identity?

One Day Later

"Welcome, Morgaine. And Mirouaene! I saw you last as no more than a mere infant. And you have grown so tall and beautiful, and you carry yourself well, like any Avalon priestess."

I smiled at the small but queenly lady with the soft eyes. _So this must be the Lady of the Lake—Viviane, as Morgaine called her. _I thought to myself. "Thank you." I spoke quietly, mainly out of embarrassment. Were all the priestesses of Avalon short? Was I to be the odd one out of Avalon? At that moment it seemed that my heart sagged inside my body, expressing my disappointment. Now I would be much less welcome in Avalon. I was tall and slender, with long dark hair that almost reached my waist. My fingers were long and graceful as well, like leaves floating into the hazy sunlight. Though I thought myself quite good-looking, I had now given up all hope for being accepted into even my own motherland.

"Lady Viviane—" I stopped short as a fleet-footed messenger sped through the mists at the entrance to Avalon, where Morgaine and I were speaking with Viviane. I was shocked at the blue-painted messenger's rude behavior as to interrupt our conversation, and stared open-mouthed at the man.

"My lady—great Priestess of Avalon—our—most loyal—king has—passed in battle." The man said while panting and breathing deeply.

Viviane's face remained expressionless and vague, as if a stone covering had been draped over it. I looked quizzically at Morgaine, who leaned in to listen to the messenger's news with a slight look of hope in her eyes which even I had trouble detecting. "And…" she asked softly.

"The Queen Igraine is bitterly upset and must only think of her son, who remains a lone reminder of her husband."

"My brother…my baby…" Morgaine stared far off into the mists. I restrained myself from questioning her, for I had been told by my foster-father at Benwick not to interfere in matters of state, and as far as I knew, searching for a new king was an important one. However, curiosity took over me and I decided to question the messenger instead.

"Who are they planning to choose as the new monarch?" I asked timidly.

"The boy is too young to take the throne, and has been in fostering for about nine years now. His mother's sister's son is still younger than him, though he is next in line for the throne. Therefore, it must be given to his father, King Lot of Lothian and the Isles. Now I must leave, best wishes to all!"

The messenger set off quickly and Viviane narrowed her eyes in anger. "Lot and Morgause, a fine couple they make, the conniving pair. We must prevent him from taking the throne. He will surely not be loyal to Avalon, and disaster will come over the land, enveloping Avalon forever in the mists. It will drift forever as a lost land like Atlantis if Lot is in power." She looked thoughtful. "I will consult with Merlin on this night about whose hands the kingdom shall be given in to. You may take Mirouaene to the House of Maidens instead of leaving her with me. She will stay in your room for the night. You may begin by speaking to her about what she will have to expect in Avalon and the numerous amounts of skills she will have to learn."

"She has the Sight, Viviane." Morgaine whispered, her voice calm. "I have predicted her learning quickly. There will be nothing to explain to her, when the time comes."

"Oh no. Mirouaene has much to learn. She may be the cleverest mage in Avalon, but her mind works in such a way that she imagines. Her confidence level is very low." I stood stock still as I overheard Viviane's words. I fixed my stare on Viviane. I understood that I would not be perfect, but when Viviane gave Morgaine that message, a pang of hurt feeling overwhelmed me with more pain that I would have felt if I had told Morgaine myself.

"She is young, and has many years ahead of her. There is time, Viviane, there is time." Morgaine gave Viviane a defiant glance. I sneaked a smile towards the younger lady. I could ask Morgaine for advice at anytime, and she would help me. Suddenly, I was ecstatic, I was experiencing a feeling that I thought would never occur. Morgaine loved me, and would protect me. With her power of love, she would shine a single light into my heart, and though I would never be able to walk into Avalon's arms, I could always find a place in Morgaine's heart, which would take more than a thousand Avalon's to replace.

"You two may dine at my cottage before leaving for the House. Mirouaene, you will be introduced to Raven the Silent Prophet. She is the most advanced in the Sight, and is able to predict the future far ahead, many generations after us. As for you Morgaine, I plan to enter you in the king-making ceremony at Dragon Island as the Virgin Huntress. You will perform the rites of the Tribes, so that they, and the Druids, will accept their new king."

"With Lot? Viviane, Lot is much older than me. He was a good deal older than Morgause herself when she married him. You cannot possibly want me to complete this task! Is there any older priestess who might be interested?"

"Morgaine, what have I just spoken about? Lot will never be king, and Morgause will never gain power, and if I must hold her from it, I will gladly do so! I have made plans, which I will discuss with Merlin. The new king will be much more favorable to you, my dear." She grinned smugly.

We were led to Viviane's snug cottage where we ate a large loaf of bread and some fruit. Morgaine explained to me that priestesses were forbidden to eat meat; it was almost equal to cannibalism, as we would be feasting on lesser sons and daughters of our great mother Earth. I was content with that, for I had always loathed seeing mutton or veal on a platter after being well-cooked. I loved the natural wild, and the thought of an innocent animal being slaughtered for the benefit of humankind was absolutely horrid to me. After finishing off our repast, Morgaine and I bid Raven and Viviane good-bye, and made our way towards the House of Maidens.

"Mirouaene, dear, you will now be able to enjoy the wonderful sights of Avalon during the hours of darkness. On top of the Tor you will witness celebrations and festivities centered on the ringstones. It is very beautiful, is it not?"

A chill ran across my arm as a slight breeze cut through the dark sky. "The Tor is very—very large." I shivered both because of the cold and the size of the massive hill towering above us.

"It is." Morgaine replied, as we ascended the hill towards the House of Maidens. "The Beltane rituals often take place on the top of the Tor." She sighed. "I really wish Viviane would tell us who she plans to make the new king. Though I do not understand how she would be able to construct the path that Britain will take toward its glory…or its downfall." She looked at me and spoke. "The only event that does not take place around the ringstones is the king-making. I will have to go to Dragon Island whenever Viviane and Merlin come to a conclusion. We have come upon the mirror pool right now, the source of the Sight, and I could very well look into it to predict…but what if the result is not what I was hoping for?" She turned away from the pool with her hands covering her face.

_The new king!_ I had almost forgotten, though the news had come just earlier today. Who would take the position? If this Lot of Lothian was the only legible successor, and Avalon did not want him on the throne, then who would become king? Would the Britain fall to the Saxons? I shuddered at the thought as I shifted my gaze to the clear depths of the mirror pool. I did not know what to do, but I finally decided to close my eyes gently and pray for my visions to come back to me. _Dear God—Goddess of Avalon…Mother…Maiden…Priestess! I have no knowledge on how to summon my Sight, as Morgaine calls it. Please aid me! I want to help Morgaine! Please! _I opened my eyes and stared into the pool. I could see nothing but the bottom of the pool once again. I turned away in frustration.

"Mirouaene…"

A sudden jolt of knowledge struck me in the head like a bolt of lightning. _The rightful heir! Who is the rightful heir! Uther had a son! But the messenger said it was not possible…he is too young! But who? Viviane would never allow Avalon to fall to the Saxons. It is her flesh and blood. Her voice is that of the Goddess, Morgaine has told me. Oh why, why won't I have visions when I really need them? _I began to recollect my miserable time at the Benwick court...jeering…Lancelot…maids…the minstrel…the MINSTREL! The stories! When had he told me the story of a king…or king-making? Shain was the son of a king…the oldest of three brothers, therefore the rightful heir to the throne! I stared into the mirror pool once again. The surface rippled to reveal a tall, thin, golden-haired young man seated on a fine white stallion. He had somewhat the look of the former king. I suddenly became terrified of what I saw. I tried to run far from the pool, but my legs would not budge. _Uther's son! Morgaine's bro—_

"Mirouaene, are you all right? Why are you staring into the mirror pool like that? What—" She walked towards me and leaned her head forward, intending to read the message written inside the water.

I couldn't help myself at that next moment. I plunged into the water, shattering the image and sending rivulets of water every which way. "Morgaine—" I said hoarsely. _I cannot let her know that the future king is her own brother, who she loves like her own soul. So this is Viviane's supposed plan. And she proposes the two to participate in the king-making. All for shaming her own kin! This is disgraceful! I must tell Morgaine…I must protect her…I must prevent it… _I thought with a sudden wave of confidence. But how would I explain it? If I succumbed to the truth, a battle between Morgaine and Viviane would ensue, and I would be the root of it. I would be rejected from Avalon…then where would I go? I would just have to force her to obey me. I would not let her participate in the king-making. "Do not listen to Viviane, or Merlin. I have sensed danger linked to the king-making ritual. It is vital that you not participate. I am only trying to return the kindness and wise words that you have given to me. Please obey me, Morgaine. Viviane has set a trap—"

"Mirouaene, don't speak nonsense. Is that what you are trying to hide from me by jumping in the water?"

"Yes—no—" I tried to pick my words carefully, but I did not succeed.

"I cannot disobey Viviane, she is the Lady of Avalon! She speaks with the voice of the Goddess, and if I disobey the Goddess, Avalon will suffer a civil war, because of me!"

"You will have no choice but to surrender to Viviane in the same war if you do not listen to me, Morgaine. Shame, regret, pain, and misfortune will visit you if you take part in the king-making. I can see it clearly. I can see conflict, destruction—" I began to lose my temper slowly.

"Mirouaene..." Morgaine suddenly looked taller than I, and her eyes shot their own angry words at me. I squeaked in horror, I had never seen this side of Morgaine, the fuming wrath of a priestess. "Let us go, it is late." She spoke quite calmly, however.

I sighed and obeyed. I had tried to help her, but she was stubborn, and wouldn't listen. Morgaine led me to experience the feelings of love, appreciation, and admiration. I had wanted to return those feelings to her, to show that I cared. But alas, her life would take a turn for the worse, and it would be my fault. And I would forever spend my life as a coward, haunted by a warning that I had never given because of my own silly fears.


	4. Chapter 3: A Whole New World

**A/N: **I'm back! W00t! Thanks again to my reviewers: Morgan Scarlett or Mneme and Raistlins Lover! As the story progresses, you might notice that Mirouaene's story is VERY similar to Morgaine's. That is why they are very close friends and can relate to one another and depend on one another. I have also made some changes to my plot, therefore cutting out some of the new characters and adding more to the list of them which I mentioned in the prologue. About the title, I know it sounds awkward since the title of the first chapter had the word "world" in it as well, but it's the only one I could think of that really describes the chapter. I was half inspired by the Aladdin song…lol. Anyways, enjoy this chapter, and please review! I love getting feedback and having to know what I am doing well and what I have to improve!

**Disclaimer: **I own Mirouaene, and in this chapter, some new characters appear so I own them too. I own my plot, of course, but I own nothing else. I give many thanks to MZB for letting me borrow her wonderful characters for a story that I hope will turn out well.

**Chapter 3: A Whole New World**

I reluctantly awoke the next morning, still shivering in recovery of last night's trauma. My gown was slightly damp from the heavenly water of the mirror pool, for I had been too distressed to change. Today I would be entering the priestess school for the first time. I glanced underneath my bed to see a richly embroidered blue robe dotted with tiny sequins, accompanied by a small piece of parchment.

_Young Mirouaene, I am deeply sorry about my presence last night. I understand that you may have never seen me or any priestess in that form. It is all only a trick of the eyes, which you will be taught sometime during your training as a priestess. Anyhow, it is your first day today and I commend you for being so courageous as to accept the challenge that Avalon has set for you. I wish you the best of luck and I hope you know that the Goddess will always make sure that you accomplish much in days to come. I have left for the king-making ritual today and will most likely not return for a long time. With best wishes and love from Morgaine. _I read silently, absorbing the words as they were written with Morgaine's precise hand. _The ritual—it is too late. _I thought sadly, hanging my head. I had half a mind to forget about my schooling and pursue Morgaine, sternly warning her once more. However, I remembered that Avalon was a large place, and Dragon Island was somewhere far away, in a place where fertility reigned over the land, and the people worshipped the Earth Mother. I could speak to Viviane, but I had no mind to become entangled in her wicked affairs. I sighed unhappily. The only solution was to let the warning go to waste, to let this situation pass.

I donned myself in the beautiful blue robe before exiting the bedroom into a narrow passageway. I questioned passing priestesses, many much older than I, the way to the meeting hall, and I was eventually following a short, stocky woman into my new life as a priestess.

"You are that new priestess, Mirouaene, whom Viviane had always been talking about, are you not?" asked the stocky woman in a jolly, musical voice.

"Y—yes", I stammered in reply. She led me into a spacious room, with a high domed ceiling. My teeth chattered as I stared into the never-ending sea of serious faces whose eyes returned my gaze.

"Oh don't be afraid, they are all sweet girls." The woman gestured lightly for me to move along into the crowd. "Now run along and try to find a grown priestess to lead you to your first lesson."

I bid the cheerful lady farewell and determinedly joined the throng of priestesses. I recalled being jostled and pushed around that day when Morgaine had come to fetch me from Benwick, and began to ponder more about whether these blue-clad priestesses cared even less, when I tripped suddenly over the dress of a small, dark girl with thick, flowing hair. I fell, all the weight pushed on one knee, and I cried out into the foggy chatter.

"Oh my Goddess! Are you all right? I am terribly sorry; I believe my robe is coming loose." The girl said looking shocked while tying a ribbon on her robe. She held out a hand to help me from my painful position, which I gladly took.

"I should be the one to apologize, for it was I who was daydreaming. It's a habit that I am still to rid myself of." The girl smiled sweetly and was joined by another of about her height, but with hair in tight curls that contrasted with the first girl's wavy locks.

"Are you new to the House? I have never seen you before. Lady Viviane told us some time ago that a new girl was to come join us and would in time become a great priestess. Are you that one?" The girl's eyes lit up with excitement.

"I suppose she is, for I have heard news of no other." The curly-haired girl finally spoke in her low voice, thick with an accent that I did not recognize. She suddenly blushed. "Oh! Forgive me for not bothering to introduce myself as a priestess must! My name is Marian, and this is my sister, Suuven." She said, holding one hand out to me and gesturing towards the wavy-haired girl with the other.

"How nice it is that you have kin of the same age as you, whom you might trust with every word spoken in your mind." I murmured under my breath as I shook Marian's small hand awkwardly.

"No…" Marian said in a sharp tone, glancing at Suuven. "All of us priestesses know each other as sisters, for we are all daughters of the Goddess, the Great Mother."

_I'm sorry_. I thought silently. Were all priestesses of Avalon critical? I looked down at my sandals while Suuven spoke.

"Lessons begin soon. Do you know where you are headed off to first?" She asked in a perky voice.

"I was told to speak to an older priestess about that."

"I would hope that you and I are in herb lore together, for that is what I always start with."

"I am keen on knowing your skill with the Sight. Viviane said you could read into the future. You will be a source of competition among the priestesses." Marian pointed out in a voice as hard as the stone floor we were standing on.

Without a word in reply, I began to grope through the crowd for an older woman who would guide me to my first lesson. I was given an instrument with gilded wires stretched across its delicate body. My hands shook as they tried to keep hold of the heavy gold. I made my way to a window, bathing myself in the welcoming rays of the sun. I had found that Avalon was like a mosaic, each piece adding its own color to make the final work all the more gorgeous. Suuven represented a fiery, sprightly color, with flowing patterns and shades. Marian, on the other hand, was more of a gray, harsh, but with some beauty. Morgaine could be the color of the sea, calm and loving. It would not be I, however, who would declare myself as a piece in the mosaic. That was for Avalon to decide. I allowed myself to be consumed in the sun's warmth, as it reached, like a large hand from the heavens, and kissed me with its touch, planting what I soon knew to be the emblem of Avalon on my forehead. I had temporarily united with the Goddess.

**A/N: **This might be considered a bit of a cliffy for some of you, but the next chapter will be much more interesting, I promise. I was kinda lazy in writing this one…lol. I will take any constructive criticism that you offer .


	5. Chapter 4: Intelligence and Mysteries

**A/N: **Finally, I'm posting again! I was originally going to post chapter 5 along with this one, but I'm not done with it as yet. It will be coming soon though! This chapter is a lot deeper than the last one and much more interesting! I think you all will like this chapter ! By the way, I updated my profile too, if anyone was interested.

**To my reviewers:**

**Analey: **Thanks so much! After reading "Mists", I was completely entranced by its beauty and complexity, so much that I felt I had to write a fanfic on it! I decided to make Mirouaene a lot like Morgaine, because I loved Morgaine's character a lot. And yes, your story is so sweet! I just love stuff about characters and their lives as kids!

**Andromahke: **Thanks! Your review is so nice! I agree, it's hard writing a fic on "Mists", but it's such a good book! I'm trying to weave in some extra Arthurian Legend stuff into the story that wasn't in the book as well.

**Raistlins Lover: **How nice of you to review both my story and my poem! Thank you so much!

**Morgan Scarlett or Mneme: **Thank you! I'm still thinking about who Mirouaene's real parents should be…not Viviane or Morgause b/c she falls in love w/ their sons later in the book…eh…I'll think about it.

**Disclaimer: **Do I always have to keep writing one? sigh. Once again all I own is Mirouaene and any other characters that I have made up which I am too lazy to mention at the moment, but you get the idea.

**Chapter 4: Intelligence and Mysteries**

I stepped awkwardly into a large room touched with a warm, spicy fragrance and the lilting voices of about fifteen soft instruments. I came into view of a small group of priestesses lightly caressing the golden strings of their instruments, which looked very similar to my own. I stood in awe as I listened to the beautiful sound—or sounds. It was so stunning that I could not tell whether it was one girl playing or many. I shyly brought my hand to the gold in my hands and stroked two strings, producing a rather dissonant sound. I flinched as one girl raised her head slightly, but a beckoning wave of her hand loosened the tenseness in my body, and I slowly made my way towards the priestesses. Still feeling timid, I stopped halfway into the room and began to examine the golden beauty in my arms. I cautiously plucked different strings, carefully discriminating which had the higher and lower sounds. I went on, beginning to stroke many strings at once, when a thin, tanned hand rested on top of my own. I looked up from my playing to see the priestess who had beckoned me to sit with her and her friends. She smiled, lighting her face, golden as the wires on the instruments. The girl was very slender, with long, graceful hands, similar to my own. She closely resembled a deer, and as she moved back, her elegant step made me think of a fleet-footed fawn. I held out my hand to shake hers, and she spoke in her melodious voice.

"You play beautifully for one only beginning to learn the art of the harp," she said softly. "Our mistress has not arrived yet, so we are allowed to hang around, play music, and do anything."

"Oh thank you! I was quite fascinated by this massive piece of gold that you call a harp! I am very eager to learn!" I was comforted by her sweetness.

"You have an advantage, then, for those who love what they are taught are those who are taught the most effectively. You will pick up quickly, I am sure."

A darker-skinned priestess came and stood beside the deer-like one. "Tessa can probably teach you herself. She is one of the cleverest, most learned priestesses in the House, I can guarantee!" The younger girl piped.

The girl known as Tessa blushed deeply. I could tell she had been victim to this compliment many times, for she hid a small smile between her red cheeks. I sighed, so Morgaine had been right. Avalon would have a variety of people, intelligent, kind, critical, even some rude. Tessa was one of the more fortunate. I counted on my fingers the number of essentials she possessed. Character…for sure, intelligence as I heard it, leadership…well, she seemed to be the role model for some such as the young priestess who had complimented her. Though I had only just met her, the desire in me had already built on itself, the desire to experience Tessa's eternal happiness, to find a road to joy through this girl, to _be _her. _But you will never earn that privilege, for the Goddess has given to you what has been earned through many lives past. Mourn, as you are doing, or smile along with Tessa, and all for that matter. _I heard the voice speaking, bellowing from my heart, flowing through the many complicated passageways of my body. It filled me with a fear, an awe. A fear that would lead me to heed it. However, I only had the ability to fall as prey to my envy, my wicked desire. I had no knowledge of whether I had disobeyed the words of the Goddess, or my own. I gradually melted out of my muddled trance, and silently nodded in response to the dark girl's kind word as an older lady entered the room with a harp in hand, ready to educate all of us. I realized that in my selfishness I had forgotten to introduce myself to Tessa and the other girls.

* * *

For the next few days I traveled from class to class, feeding my mind with the knowledge of the Earth Mother, the awareness within me. I often hungered for more, especially knowledge of past lives and what was happening outside of Avalon. I would hear about the constant raids of Saxon armies, as well as stories about how the king-making and other rituals came about and the order of events within those rituals. I had become so keen in learning that I would sometimes manage to filch a scrying bowl from the hall and run off to the mirror pool, which I knew my way to now. I would cup my hands to drink some of the cool, refreshing water, and then fill the bowl with the clear liquid. Using my increased power, I would summon my Sight, in order to glimpse the activity of the outside Britain, of my brother, Lancelot, and his love for horses and weaponry. I would sit there through the night, numb, but content.

On a cool, breezy night, when the Goddess almost drew her whole face behind the veil of darkness, I ran with a scrying bowl to the mirror pool. I completed my same routine that I had repeated almost every night, when I began to think of how I had come to Avalon. I remembered Morgaine's kind, serene face, when suddenly I wondered what had become of her. In a mixture of haste and worry, I filled the scrying bowl and invoked the Goddess. At first, all I could see was my own reflection and the blue crescent on my forehead, but eventually the features shifted into those of a young man, the same golden-haired youth I had seen the day I had shattered the mirror pool's surface. He held a blood covered spear in his hand and his face looked drunk with the blood spread across his lips. The water began to ripple, and the visions I could see began to move extremely fast. I saw a maiden covered in blue paint, who I recognized as Morgaine. The visions moved still faster and I could see a child, a dark child. The boy grinned evilly, unsheathing a sword at his side which suddenly seemed to cut through the scrying bowl in a rush of black metal. The image blurred and the bowl broke in two, resounding with the echo of evil laughter. The water immediately thickened into a red liquid, and from the musty scent filling the air I recognized it as blood. I jumped away, horrified as the blood spilled across the smooth stone walkway of the Tor. I screamed frightfully, unable to control myself, and scurried down the large hill, incapable of catching my breath. I had full knowledge of the vision; I had unlocked its mystery easily. Unknowing of my destination, I fled from the sight of Avalon, of the Tor, of the Goddess Herself, all the while haunted by the deathly laugh of the dark child in the vision.

* * *

Through the mists I dashed, sometimes faltering, sometimes my legs carrying me swiftly through the dark. Visions filled the cursed path I walked upon, blurry but colorful, like the near future that they shaped. Moods flung themselves into the sights, eerie and magnificent. An arm clothed in white samite brandished a large, jeweled sword, which all of a sudden flew into an armor-protected arm. It was soon joined by a host of swords, held high in victory. A glowing cup was shown, brightening each vision. The happiness was remarkable, marvelous, one that I would never experience but in my visions. However, such would be destroyed by the haunting laugh, the black sword, the dark child. It tore a hole in my heart, knowing that the only happiness I would ever accept was not to be eternal. I swooned and collapsed, yielding to exhaustion, allowing the earth's cool body to connect with my own.

* * *

I awoke from my daze in a wood blooming with trees of every shade and hue. Dew stained my crumpled blue robe, as I rose stiffly, surveying my surroundings warily. My stomach churned desperately as I slowly realized that I was not in Avalon, but in…some other land I could not name. I frowned between my brows while walking every possible way out of the dense forest I had been caught in, but finding myself only deeper into the trees. I looked around, scared, alone. Alone…not so alone…for I felt that I could see somebody. I darted my head around, surveying the thick foliage, inhaling deeply. I could see a shadow, standing beside my own, then having left without a trace. I jumped when a shoulder scraped past mine, and a woman stepped in front of me, face stern, observing me from head to toe. I smiled fearfully upon the middle-aged lady, somehow recognizing her simple, but ripe beauty, yet assuring myself that I had never met her.

"My lady, I am sorry. Are…are we in Avalon?" I asked, choking madly over the straightforward statement.

"No, my child, we do not stand in the land of the Druids. Young Mirouaene, you have ventured far deeper into the mists, to the land of the Faery. Ours is the land of the mysteries, where people are learned in magic and writing, future-seeing and such." The lady spoke in a deep, echoing voice that sent a chill through my spine, into my bones.

"Is the Faery land not part of Avalon? For the Druidic people are very similar to your kind, for we are skilled in the arts and educated by bards and priestesses in the House of Maidens. Priestesses are exceptionally skilled in the Sight, and we can see what is happening in different parts of the world and into the near future." I said, feeling more confident and relaxed. However, I marveled at how she, like Morgaine, knew my name.

"No, our land is past the mists, into the forested kingdoms. I saw you resting late in the night, disheveled and bedraggled. How is it with you?" She asked calmly, smoothing my hair.

I searched my memory for the night before, remembering the evil laugh, the rough, black blade slicing deftly through the scrying bowl. I shivered when I remembered the blood, pouring, flowing in little rivulets.

"Mirouaene?" The faery woman inquired, raising her eyebrows.

"My lady, please…I was scared half to death…" I stammered, not knowing what words would come out of my mouth.

"Tell me child, what was the worry about?" The woman smiled, her long, silky hair shimmering in the dim light. Somehow, I could see a resemblance between her and me.

"Lady…I saw it…the end…clearly. I saw the beginning as well…the climax…but the end…the end…horrific…" I spoke, panting while recollecting the visions full of their mysteries, their solvable mysteries.

"What did you see? Please tell me. I will help you."

"The splendor…the beauty. A new monarch is being assigned to the throne following the ceremony of the Hunter and Huntress. Viviane has offered the position of the Huntress to sister Morgaine, and…and…" I shivered. "The hunter is her brother…son of Uther Pendragon, the former ruler of all Britain. Viviane…the wicked lady…she brought shame, sorrow, disaster, upon us…for no reason that I have heard. I have seen the uniting of the two…not brother and sister, but man and woman. I saw it…clearly…in the scrying bowl…we must prevent them from getting together! Tragedy, ruin, catastrophe, is the seed planted in the womb of my dear Morgaine. The son of the King Stag…the Dark Son…who will end the days of glory, success, and triumph. I could envision the whole reign of the future king…Arthur…I could see his Companions, many of them, trustworthy Companions. I saw my brother Lancelot among them, I saw him embark on adventures, keep his vigil. I saw his virtue, as well as his sin. I saw the Queen…the Queen who loves, yet hates her King. I saw…everything. But…but it will end…sadly…the only happiness for Avalon…the only happiness for me." I shook, half sobbing.

"Oh my dear, there is nothing we can do about it now. The king-making is in Viviane's hands, and we must not meddle with her affairs. She only tries to help Avalon, though she will not succeed, and instead damage it. Yes, I know what you know, though it may not seem so. However, we…I do have control over Morgaine's child. I mean, I do not as yet, but I will. I can raise her child; I can ease Morgaine's tortured soul and mind."

"But how must we summon her to this place? It is nowhere near Avalon, and I do not even know how I came! Oh, what shall we do? Arthur's rule is important to Avalon…by performing in the king-making he gives his loyalty to both Avalon and the woad tribes nearby. It…it is important to our land. In the end…in the end Avalon will be no more…will it? Britain will be no more…I do not think it will." I held my breath, hoping that the lady, with her wits, truly meant what she had just recently said. She darted into the trees, like a nimble dancer, and immediately returned with a handful of large leaves, some as green as the wet grass, some as red as the fiery sun when it sets.

"I will not be able to send for Morgaine without your help, Mirouaene. In the future, you will be vital in the sustaining of Arthurian rule. Though you have just found out about it, there is not much more to learn, and I know you are keen on learning, are you?" She handed me the large leaves which I took to be herbs.

"Yes, yes I am! Now what must I do with these?"

"Morgaine will return when the sun begins to fall asleep. By then, I will instruct you to make a salve from these herbs. When you return to Avalon, you will secretly spread the ointment across Morgaine's forehead as she sleeps. The salve contains instructions that will lead her to my land without her knowing. When she arrives, I will coax her into allowing me to raise her child, therefore, having a job done easily."

I beamed, proud of my participation in such an important act. Suddenly I was reminded that I had no way out of the faery woman's land. "How do I reach Avalon from this place?" I asked, looking all around me. "There is no route back to Avalon!" I was terrified for a moment, knowing that I truly was to be at the House at the time, and that I would be in a severe dilemma if I was to be found roaming around the open land.

"Mirouaene, both the faeries and the priestesses of Avalon have always said, 'find a way or make one'." And with a flick of her fingers and the short strand of grass she was twirling, the forest suddenly parted into a dirt pathway. She grasped me by the shoulder before I had the chance to take off eagerly.

"You must stay with me, in my palace, so we may feast enjoyably while discussing the topic at hand. You may know me as Nuria, queen of the faeries. Come now." I hesitated before scurrying quietly after the faery queen.


End file.
